Nightmare
by ALEO
Summary: Don thought he had a handle on the Winchesters, not exactly foes and certainly not friends, but a late night encounter threatens to change that. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Numb3rs/Supernatural: Nightmare

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

_**Spoilers - Numb3rs: **__nil. - __**Supernatural**__: nil._

_**A/N:**__ This follows on from my fic "Alliance", making this the fifth in a crossover series which started with "Unexplained". This is not set in any particular season of either series._

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**PART ONE**

The night was cold and dark, the sliver of the moon that should have been visible was hidden behind heavy clouds. The threat of more rain was heavy in the air making everything even darker and stiller than normal for the midnight hour.

Standing in the empty lot, his collar turned up against the cold, Don gave serious thought to walking away. No one knew he was here, he'd checked carefully for a tail on his way just in case. That was the problem, a cryptic message from an anonymous informant promising information on the Winchesters and he had come to the meet alone. The hard reality of the cold and the emptiness of where he was standing brought it home to him. It was a mistake, less than a week after Best's arrest and his latest encounter with the Winchesters was too soon for comfort.

Turning he made to retrace his steps to his SUV parked waiting at the curb but a scuff stopped him. He turned quickly and saw a figure emerging from the darkness into the faint wash from a distant streetlight. Blinking he backed up a step before stopping himself, he recognised that walk, this was no informant, it was Dean Winchester himself.

"Hello, Fed," Dean said as a corner of his mouth quirked up.

"What do you want?" Don demanded. He had hoped he would never see the man again. "You can't be here."

"You called me," Dean said back. He stopped a yard or so away and cocked his head to the side. A frown crossed his face as his eyes narrowed. "You did call me, right?"

"What?" Don started to ask when all hell broke loose.

Shadows sprang forward out of the edges of the darkness, man shaped shadows that rushed at them, weapons raised. Don recognised the shapes, the helmets and tactical gear as they moved forward into the dim light. As the shouting started he also recognised the three letters written across the vests.

"FBI, freeze!"

Don looked back at Dean but the other man had already taken in the situation and reacted. Less than a heartbeat later Don felt the cold press of Dean's silver Colt under his chin. His hands quickly went up and out in an urgent gesture for the crowding FBI SWAT agents to stop.

It was the SWAT agents that now found themselves freezing at the hostage situation that had developed in the middle of their arrest.

"Put the gun down, Winchester," a woman demanded. "Look around you, you are surrounded."

Dean didn't immediately answer; instead he reached out with his spare hand and grabbed a fistful of Don's coat, pulling the agent towards him until they stood almost nose to nose.

Don swallowed at the hard glare directed at him from only a few inches, reading that Dean blamed him for the situation they now found themselves in. Now was not the time or the place to argue but he hoped that Dean could read his surprise and innocence. He risked a miniscule shake of his head in emphasis. The eyes narrowed slightly but other than that Dean didn't seem to react. The agent didn't resist as Dean shifted and pulled him around until he was held with a tight arm around his neck with the gun pressed firmly just below his ear. Now he could see the woman that had spoken and didn't recognise her.

The woman was wearing an outfit very similar to the SWAT agents, complete with tactical vest and helmet. She was also carrying a rifle that she now allowed to lower and hang from its strap across her shoulder. Negotiations worked best when the negotiator didn't point a weapon at the subject.

"Lady, better than you have tried," Dean finally said.

She stared back for a moment then her gaze flicked to the captive agent before responding. "Others perhaps, but not better."

Don got the impression her words sounded more confident than the female agent felt. She'd probably figured with a SWAT team on her side she had entered the encounter ahead on points only now to find those points had shifted to Dean Winchester.

Dean smirked, "Sure. Well, it's been nice and all but we're leaving."

"Let Agent Eppes go," The female agent demanded.

For an instant Don was a little surprised at that, she knew him even as he didn't know her. A moment later he realised she should know him as it seemed he'd been used as bait to lure the elder Winchester to this meeting. As Charlie had once told him his mind worked best under pressure and now a new thought came to the forefront - the Bureau knew his relationship with the Winchesters, particularly Dean, was more than he'd let on. Using him like this they had to know. As Dean spoke again Don pulled his thoughts back to the here and now.

"Not likely."

Don reacted to the tug of Dean's arm around his shoulders and got his feet moving as Dean started to drag him backwards. Unable to move his head he was still able to see that Dean was heading back towards the darkness from which he'd emerged only a short time before. Don knew he would have had an escape route scouted.

The female agent shifted and her voice took on a slightly desperate note as her arrest deteriorated further. "We will not let you kidnap an agent."

"Lady, there's nothing you can do to stop me," Dean snapped back. "I'm taking him until I'm clear. You want him back you'll 'let' me leave."

"We need to talk about this," she started, taking a step forward before halting.

The gun was shoved harder against the skin under Don's ear forcing him to cock his head to one side to reduce the pressure. The female agent's confidence wavered even further as Dean steadily moved backwards as if there were no surrounding SWAT agents. His confidence suggested he had something more on his side than just an agent at gunpoint and that had her wondering if the birdlike jerkiness of her head as she tried to look around them was any indication. If he was in her position Don might have suspected a sniper but he'd never seen anything to indicate the Winchesters had operated that way.

"I'm not talking to you about anything," Dean growled. "Get your feds out of my way or I'll go through them."

Dean didn't stop moving, just continued to drag him steadily backwards towards the darkness. Don saw the female agent break, finally waving a hand ordering the surrounding agents to stand aside. Considering it was his neck on the line he was on one hand glad she did but on the other it left him with Dean to contend with if it went that far. Nothing further was said as Don was dragged past the final pair of SWAT agents and deeper into the shadows.

As they moved into the darkness and the SWAT agents remained behind in the parking lot Don had to allow that things looked like they were going to go that far. The glare the other man had levelled at him when the SWAT agents had made their appearance had been full of blame and menace and Don knew he was in serious danger if he remained in Dean's hands. His hand went to the gun still holstered at his hip but the grip around his neck tightened, as did the pressure of the gun once again.

"Uh, uh," Dean warned. "You and me are gonna have a little chat. Pull it out slowly then drop it."

Don tried to plant his feet and stop their backwards progress but Dean didn't allow that, tightening his grip and giving him a jerk to keep him moving. Bringing his left hand up Don grabbed a hold of Dean's forearm, the tightened arm dangerously close to applying pressure to his windpipe. He protested, "I didn't set this up."

"Sure," Dean said, his tone full of disbelief. "Your gun, drop it."

"You're clear. They can't see us now. Go and I'll give you time to get away." Don offered.

"Think I'm gonna trust you after that?" Dean said low and dangerously into the agent's ear.

"I've done it before," Don reminded him but was ignored.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

Moving carefully even as Dean continued to drag him backwards Don drew his Glock then allowed it to fall to the ground with a wet clatter as it landed in a puddle.

"You carrying a back-up?"

"No."

"I find one I'm not gonna be happy," Dean warned.

"What, like you are now?" Don couldn't help snap back. At the warning jab he added, "I'm unarmed."

They'd only taken a few more steps before Don found himself spun around and shoved hard against something black and polished to within an inch of its life. Getting his hands up in time to take some of the impact he recognised what he was now leaning against, the Impala. He felt the hard point of the Colt's muzzle as it was pressed against his spine and held very still as Dean quickly searched him for the back-up gun he clearly felt the agent possessed. The pressure from the gun disappeared as Dean finished.

"Get in."

That was taking things too far and Don turned, "Not a good idea."

"Probably not, but when did I ever have a good idea?"

Don hesitated, not sure how to respond to what seemed almost to be a rhetorical question. Not waiting for an answer Dean just hauled the passenger door open and gave the agent a shove.

"In."

"You're clear, this is not smart." Don insisted as he made no move to enter the car. He might be semi-fine with helping the wanted man to escape by giving him a head start, but it was another thing altogether to get into the car.

"Get in or I'll put you in."

Having tried his luck in physical encounters in the past with the Winchester he knew the man would be able to make good on his threat without resorting to the gun still pointed at him. Knowing it for a mistake but not seeing any other option open to him Don climbed into the car.

"And don't think of trying anything," Dean warned as he closed the door behind the agent. After a cautious look back for any pursuing agents Dean moved around the front of the car, keeping his gun aimed through the windscreen.

Don kept his hands up in full view. He remembered other notes in the files, notes as to what Dean had done to anyone who had damaged his car. His situation was perilous enough without being responsible for Dean damaging his own car by shooting at him.

**N3/SPN**

The Impala slowed to a stop.

Don recognised where they were and couldn't help the increasing sense of dread he felt. He looked to Dean intending to try once again to negotiate his way out of the situation he'd found himself in when the door was pulled open, hinges protesting. Turning quickly he recognised the younger Winchester as Sam reached in and grabbed at his upper arm. A moment later Don found himself stumbling away from the car, splashing through the puddle at the side of the lane and slipping on the wet grass.

He tried to pull his arm free but Sam's grip was firm. Not that it would have helped him much with Dean following close behind and both brothers holding their guns on him. Don looked around him trying to find something that he could use, knowing it for an exercise in futility.

The headstones that rose around them were dark and menacing, unlike the glowing ethereal quality they'd had the last time he was here. The only illumination came from the lights spaced far apart on poles mounted to one side of each of the various laneways. This was the graveyard where he'd followed Regan before his third encounter with the Winchesters. The scars on his left forearm ached and he remembered the pain as Sam had sliced his arm open before pouring a potion into the wound. Deep in recollection he stumbled at the remembered agony that had followed but managed to regain his footing. He forced his mind away from the memory, there was more than enough to worry about in the here and now.

"Dean, listen to me," Don tried, twisting his head around to appeal to the older brother.

"Shut it."

Forced to keep moving at the pull on his arm Don said nothing further as they moved deeper into the graveyard. It was a good five minutes before they stopped. The feeling of dread intensified as Don saw what lay in front of him, a freshly dug grave. His adrenalin heightened vision showed him clean edges, way too neat for a manually dug hole but there were two shovels standing in the dirt on the other side.

As Sam released his arm and took a step back Don started to realise there had been more than one set-up this night. He turned and saw Dean closing up the last few paces. Analysing everything in a flash he moved quickly, taking what he figured to be his last chance. Diving to one side Don targeted Sam, if he could get the younger Winchester under his control he would control Dean.

Don got one hand on Sam's right wrist pushing the gun up and away and had the other hand balled into a fist and aimed at the younger man's head but just when he thought he was getting somewhere Sam shifted and Don found himself sprawled on the wet ground. With no time to waste Don sprang up, shoes slipping slightly in the mud and grabbed once again at the younger man. Hearing Dean's angry shout he managed to twist Sam around as a shield between himself and Dean. With Dean's Colt effectively out of the equation Don again tried for Sam's gun but the younger man was proving himself just as adept at hand to hand as his older brother and Don once again found himself flying.

This time as he landed the air was driven from his lungs by Dean landing on top of him. He bucked and twisted, jabbing his elbow backwards and getting a solid blow in but a second body landed on him and he could barely move. The serious injuries both brothers had received less than a week earlier should have given Don an edge but continuing to struggle he couldn't help but notice that both were moving as if they were completely healed. The brothers shifted and started to pull at his arms, forcing them behind his back.

Fighting for his life Don gave it everything he had but it wasn't enough. Gasping from the effort he found himself in short order lying face down with his arms trussed behind him. He started to roll to one side to use the only thing left to him, his legs, when he was grabbed and hauled up. Scrambling he tried to get his feet underneath him but the effort was wasted as he was shoved to his knees in the mud. A heavy hand descended on his shoulder and a hard point jabbed at the back of his head forcing him to stillness.

Taking some deep breaths Don tried to ignore the open grave in front of him. Whilst they had not exactly parted friends after Sam was rescued and he'd arrested Best he thought he'd reached at least an understanding with Dean. The set-up back at the meet was one thing but recognising this return to the graveyard as pre-meditation on the Winchesters' part Don had no idea how it had come to this. "Why?"

The heavy hand lifted from his shoulder but the gun remained pressed firmly against his head. In his peripheral vision he saw Sam backing away and knew it was Dean standing behind him.

"You know too much," Dean said. "We know they're going to interview you tomorrow."

Tomorrow was the scheduled interviews with the agents from the Behavioural Science Unit, flown in special from Washington to interview him about his encounters with the Winchesters. How the brothers knew that wasn't relevant, neither was whatever it was they thought he knew and were so desperate to protect. "I have it under control. They won't know the whole story."

"I've met them, they're good," Dean responded.

"I've had some of the same training. I know how to talk to them." Don tried to turn his head to see Dean but the gun jabbed forward and he stopped.

"You'll spill."

"No, I won't. I have to protect myself and the only way to do that is to protect you."

"I really wish it hadn't come to this, I kinda like you, Fed." Dean sounded regretful but the gun didn't shift from its firm position on the back of Don's head.

"You came to me when Sam was taken," Don reminded him desperately. He recalled their last conversation, "You owe me."

It was a long minute before Dean answered. "I know. But that doesn't change anythin'. I'm sorry."

The pressure left the back of his head and Don understood what that meant, Dean was stepping back so he wouldn't get splattered with blood when he fired. He looked down in the grave in front of him and knew he would be soon lying in its muddy depths and wondered how long it would be before his body was found.

A metallic click sounded behind him as the safety was disengaged and Don closed his eyes, drawing in his last breath...

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	2. Chapter 2

Numb3rs/Supernatural: Nightmare

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

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**PART TWO**

...and woke up with the sound of a gunshot echoing in his ears, sweating and staring about him at the darkness in panic, not recognising where he was.

Don's hand groped out sideways and found the grip of his gun. Casting the holster aside he jerked the weapon around aiming at the shadows. Panting hard he finally realised that he was sitting in his bed, in his bedroom, in his apartment. He also froze as he realised that his finger had taken up the slack on the Glock's trigger and he was a hair away from opening fire. Taking deep, calming breaths he was able to slowly ease up the pressure and pull his finger off the trigger. The gun started to shake and he let it lower to the bed in front of him before a sudden attack of paranoia had him jerking it back up. He groped out again with his left hand, finding the switch and turning on the lamp beside his bed. The wash of light was welcoming but just made the space beyond the open door to his room even darker. Throwing aside the bedclothes he was up and moving, clearing his apartment.

He finally came to his senses when every light was blazing to find himself shivering in the cool air. His boxers and shirt were damp with sweat and his legs felt as if they were going to collapse at any moment. Taking a few unsteady steps he leant against his kitchen bench as he tried to regain his equilibrium. Finally he was able to release the grip on his gun and drew himself a glass of water.

Coughing as some of the water went down the wrong way he managed half the glass. Splashing some water on his face he stepped back and leant against the opposite bench as he pulled himself together.

_It was a nightmare_, he realised. Nothing more than a nightmare brought on by the stress of the impending meeting with the agents from the Behavioural Analysis Unit. It had felt so real, the gun against his head, the cold of the mud against his knees...

Don blinked and focused on the brightly lit room and on his gun lying within reach on the bench top across from him. _It was a nightmare_, he reminded himself, _nothing more_.

**N3/SPN**

Despite the lack of sleep the rest of the night Don was able to remain calm and focused as he told the two BAU agents of his encounters with the Winchester brothers. He found himself stumbling slightly over the recollection of what happened after his pursuit of Regan in the cemetery, experiencing a flashback to his nightmare, but managed to tell the rest of his tale without further problems. The day was a long one, with a late break for lunch that Don took outside the building where he downed three cups of coffee and found himself unable to eat. Fighting the caffeine induced shakes after the break he gave the BAU agents his analysis of the brothers at their request being careful how he painted them given the official reports of how they had threatened and tortured him.

Finally the agents put down their pens and shut off the digital recorder. Glancing at his watch Don wasn't surprised to see it was almost five o'clock. The caffeine hit had long since worn off and he was struggling with his lack of sleep and the mental tiredness the day had caused. He shook the two agents' hands and took his leave, trying not to look too relieved.

"Agent Eppes," a voice called behind him just as he reached for the coffee pot in the break room.

Turning Don managed a friendly smile as Agent Hansen pushed the glass door closed behind him. About to speak Don found himself hesitating at the expression on the other man's face, he wasn't here for coffee. The BAU agent moved closer and he found himself on guard.

"Agent Eppes," Hansen repeated. "I know there are things you left out."

"I've told you everything," Don started but Hansen shook his head.

"No, not everything," Hansen said as he stepped closer.

Don refused to react to the invasion of his personal space and tried not to flinch as the other agent whispered into his ear.

"You know them better than you're letting on. I know."

The guilt ran through him in a jolt of adrenalin and now Don did move, turning and filling his coffee cup. By some miracle his hand didn't shake.

"I know you've helped them, spent more time with them, probably Dean I'm guessing, than what you're saying," Hansen accused, still keeping his voice conspiratorially low. "I've also spent time with Dean and I can tell that you know him."

Hidden from Hansen's view Don fumbled the sweetener sachet and had to reach a second time for it, tearing it open and getting most of the powder into the cup. He refused to allow himself to otherwise react to the statement, instead concentrating on stirring his coffee. He tapped the stirrer on the edge of the cup and unconsciously stuck the end into his mouth sucking the miniscule amount of coffee out of the flattened straw while he tried to figure out Hansen's angle. The other agent was a professional profiler, skilled at getting into the minds of subjects in every situation. Don had expected to be profiled during the day's interview and he'd been correspondingly careful but had he slipped up? He tried to convince himself that the ring of truth he'd heard in the other man's voice was a ploy to get him to confess.

"Don't worry, none of this goes in the report," Hansen continued. "I'd have to turn myself in as well."

"Perhaps I should turn _you_ in," Don finally faced the other man, tossing the stirrer in the trash. "You've just admitted to having a relationship with a wanted fugitive."

"I don't think you'll do that."

"Why not?"

"You're hoping I'm profiling you, running some game on you to get you to confess, right?"

Don kept his face carefully schooled; it had been exactly what he'd been thinking. Hansen was indeed good at what he did. So was he. "You know what they did to me. You think I'm on their side after that?"

The BAU agent nodded as if he'd expected the defence. "I know they hurt you and threatened you. I believe you when you say Dean held a gun on you a few days ago. But I know how they work, I know the relationships that Dean develops with law enforcement whether he means to or not. The relationship he forged with me, and now with you."

"I think you've been reading those files for too long, Agent Hansen," Don fired back. "I have no relationship with Dean Winchester, or his brother."

Hansen stared at him for a long moment before backing off. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

"No perhaps about it," Don muttered, trying to keep the relief from his tone. He started to push his way past the other agent but stopped at the hand that barred his way.

"My card," Hansen said.

Don hesitated; knowing whatever he did could be interpreted against him. He decided to take the card, potentially less damning than refusing it.

"If ever you want to talk, call me."

"I'll do that," Don couldn't hide the tone in his voice that belied his words. He brushed past the other agent and tried to walk normally to his desk, feeling Hansen's eyes on him the entire way.

Sitting at his desk, half hidden behind the partition and his monitor Don logged on to his terminal. He appeared not to notice as Hansen went back to the conference room and had a short discussion with the other BAU agent. The two agents disappeared from his view as they sat at the table, probably finalising their notes, assuming Hansen wasn't accusing him of collusion with the fugitives. He wanted to go home, as much to collapse on his couch and get some rest as to evade the two agents. Fearing that leaving so quickly after the encounter with Hansen could be read as guilt he instead busied himself clearing the day's emails and reports. It was an hour before the BAU agents left the conference room, files and notes packed away into briefcases.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Agent Eppes," the senior BAU agent said as they stopped by.

Don stood and again shook the woman's hand. "And you, Agent Rush. I hope I was able to help."

"Yes, thank-you. Every little bit helps." Rush turned and walked away.

Hansen gave Don a searching look that he returned calmly, his emotions carefully held in check. He thought he saw a flicker of doubt in the BAU agent's eyes before Hansen inclined his head and went after Rush.

Taking his seat Don listened until he heard the elevator doors close. Letting out a long breath he closed his eyes, sincerely hoping he didn't encounter the Winchesters a sixth time, he could do without another round with the BAU. Or another stress induced nightmare.

END

_**A/N:**__ For those who were wondering, I had to go with OCs for the BAU agents as I have not seen Criminal Minds for some time and would not be able to get the character's voices right._

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